My involvement with 'Demona' a John Castaway
by Demona's Pet
Summary: Okay, I’ve taken a lot of jobs in my life, but working for the Quarrymen and infiltrating Night Stone Unlimited was by far the strangest and most dangerous of my life-as you already know. Here is everything, from my involvement with Demona and the gargo


As per your request, the continuation of my report about the events to which I was central. Please excuse some of the more objectionable content-I felt honesty was important when compiling this part of my report, even when that honesty is brutal. Nothing contained herein is untrue to the best of my memory. Also included as an attachment are some of the technical details about which you may wish to know but which I excluded from this narrative.

Besides which, being clinical was getting on my nerves. For this part, I'm going to be myself, and-as you already know-I'm just an objectionable kind of guy. When I was a kid I wanted to be a writer, so indulge me.

I'll start my story just when it gets interesting, after I'd met Castaway. It was my first meeting with _her._

I couldn't believe-sitting across the desk from probably one of the most incredible babes I'd ever had the good fortune to meet-that this was the Demon. 

Castaway must be out of his fucking skull! I thought as I shook her dainty hand, the skin as soft as a baby's ass-because that's exactly what I was thinking of; not how evil this so-called shape-shifter was, or all the awful things her kind did, or any of that rot Castaway tried to fill you with. 

No, I was thinking Dominique Destine had an incredible ass.

Not that she was bad in other areas, mind you, but her business suite didn't advertise her other assets like the tight dress did her behind. She didn't have a personality that suggested a good natured pat on the posterior would be appreciated though, not to mention that if I didn't get this job Castaway wouldn't pay my fee.

So Castaway would be pissed I was getting all horny over his enemy-if he found out. Big shit. No amount of money in the world can keep a guy from thinking with his pecker, after all. Besides, it wouldn't interfere. Work is work and when it comes to work I'm all business.

"I think there's a place on the Night Stone team for you, Mr. Malcolm." Destine said in her crisp tone, the tone that really said "Don't fuck with Dominique Destine because her cock is bigger than yours and hurts more." It was the tone she always used, until she got pissed and proved it did hurt more. I was hoping I wouldn't have to find out. Messing with Destine wasn't really what you would call a good idea, but the pay _was great._

Robert Malcolm isn't my real name of course.

I put on my professional gloss. It had taken weeks of practice to keep from slipping out of it without thinking, but I replied in my smart tone, "Thank you, Ms. Destine. I look forward to joining a company with such remarkable potential." 

Hey, I can lay it on thick when I want to. 

She showed me the way out, smiling the little smirk she had. When people smile that way they're saying "it was nice meeting you" while thinking "you're slime." She smiled at everyone that way.

Phase one of the operation was in gear. I had to win Destine's trust. Easier said than done.

Phase One: Trust

Two months later I was sitting across from a very agitated Castaway.

"You haven't even begun?!" He growled, his voice rising loud enough that others in the restaurant turned their heads.

"Yeah," I said casually, "I haven't. I can't just instantly win her trust. The bigger plan is still in place. It's a synch, so long as you're guys don't blow it again."

His eyes sparkled in anger. Several high profile defeats had been delivered to the Quarrymen lately, and news that they'd beat up some very human PIT members hadn't helped their public image much. Beating on some animals is one thing: people are quite another.

"You seemed to forget who is paying your bills, son." He warned through clenched teeth.

I winced. About a year ago I got in some trouble. When all was said and done and the scum bag lawyers had their say I, I lost everything and was still in debt.

"I have not, sir." I defended, studying the tablecloth. If I tried to default on that debt, my name would be ruined. I'd never work again. Fifteen years, gone with a distinct _flushing sound. "But I see no openings. Destine is a close book."_

"I'm aware. Then-unless something drastic happens-we still have our operations date. As for today, I have the information on the demon you requested."

"About time." I said, glaring at him in earnest. "This is the sort of info that could save my ass. You should have given it to me from day one."

He glared back, but rather than respond he just dabbed at his mouth and stood, smiling tightly. "You have your orders. Now carry them out. Good day." 

God I hated him. He wasn't giving me all the information I needed and wouldn't explain major parts of the plan or any of the reasons behind it. Conceited prick.

"Fuck you too, asshole!" I muttered out the window at his departing car, wondering just how much Destine would pay for _him. _

As I flipped through the folder I was incredulous. It said she was 1,000 years old and had been hunted for most of those years. She turned to a human during the day by-get this-magic! At night she was a gargoyle. Further, even her own kind hated her, why it didn't say. I suppose I would be bitchy if I was her, too.

Her "mate"-husband?-was Goliath. They had a daughter, Angela. Her picture was included, alongside pictures of "Demona." I studied the picture of the azure gargoyle next to the picture of Dominique. I had to admit, they did look awfully similar.

Not that I cared. Regardless of the truth, getting Destine was my job. I didn't think for a second she actually turned into a gargoyle! Would you?

At work Destine was abusive, irritable, and rude. She was superior to everyone and acted like it. As one of her newly hired assistants, I sometimes got the worst of it. She yelled at me-even threw things-frequently. But most of the time I spent running around other parts of the building for her.

When Destine asked me to do something, I did it as quickly and as well as I could. I have an eye for detail. I started finding some cost overruns and shady deals within her own business, another thing that made me even more valuable. Having dealt with so much corporate backstabbing, I can spot those sorts of things. I also discovered a lot of poor security practices, but I kept quiet on most of those. I mean, I didn't want to shoot myself in the foot. 

Destine was closed mouthed about everything, except your incompetence. But my first months were mundane, clawing my way into a superior position to her other assistances.

The first opportunity to start winning some trust came on St. Valentine's Day. I felt pretty bad for poor Dominique. Reading her history-and pretending it was true-just made me pity her. I mean, why can't these nuts leave her alone? She may be a bitch, but she had her reasons.

Castaway said she created a magic virus to capable of destroying all humans. _Right. He also said she was an immortal hundreds-maybe thousands-of years old that turned to a gargoyle at night. Okay… He knew this because his family had been hunting her for generations._

So Ms. Destine had been alone and hunted for a thousand years. Now on Valentine's Day she got to watch the world decked out in pink and red celebrating lovers, all alone. That's pretty harsh and it showed. She was in a particularly foul mood that day. I handled her incoming mail and she didn't get so much as a card.

So that day, while she was glowering in her office, I made my move. When I knocked on her door, Dominique shot me a nasty look but signaled for me to come in.

"What is it?" She snapped, her luminous green eyes full of annoyance.

"Well, Ms. Destine, I think there has been a mistake."

She cocked her head. "What are you hiding?"

My arm was behind my back, but I continued, "You didn't get anything for Valentine's Day." I showed her what I had been concealing; a small heart shaped package of chocolates, a card, and a delicate rose, all the color of her beautiful flame red hair. Her eyes widened slightly at the display, modest as it was. "As a friend, I just wanted to rectify that mistake."

It was just a plot to make her hate me a little less, but watching her eyes get sort of misty made me feel genuinely good. She was always so unhappy. I couldn't think of one nice thing anyone had ever tried to do for her. Not that she deserved it, mind you, but maybe intolerable people would be nicer if someone did more than _just tolerate them all the time._

"Why… thank you, Robert." She managed, taking the items. She was obviously surprised. "I appreciate the thought."

"Just letting you know someone cares. No one should be alone on Valentine's Day

The executive smiled in a way I'd never seen her do so before. Her large green eyes twinkled. The eyes are the window to the soul, and for the first time since we met, hers was genuine.

"I've spent too many alone. It was very kind of you to think of me."

"Just doing my job. And today you looked like you could use some cheering up."

Dominique seemed to be deep in thought, on the verge of telling me something. But then she visibly changed her mind. I could tell the conversation was over. I excused myself.

The card was red with an elaborate raised pattern of hearts and flowers against a white background. It was rather pricey for a lousy card. On the inside-in writing similar to her beautiful, antique handwriting-was "Happy Valentines Day." I added in red ink "To Dominique Destine, a fine boss and a lovely lady." I'd debated for hours what to put and if I should put just Dominique. I didn't want this to look like a pass.

The next day I noticed she had put the flower in a vase of water. It looked sort of lonely in that tiny vase, but more than one rose would have been too much. As much as I might have loved to date-or at least fuck-Dominique, asking her out would be suicidal, and giving her flowers was dangerously close to that.

Dominique had given me a raise and was smiling at me more and more often-not her tight little smirk, but a real smile that lit up her eyes. I was even starting to crack jokes around the executive, which she pretended only to tolerate. That's not to say she was about to jump into my arms or anything, but the others in the office said I was the only one on her good side besides her rarely seen daughter and her artist friend Andrea. 

When she wasn't playing Ms. Bitch she was actually a pretty nice lady. I liked her acerbic wit and caustic, quasi-good natured replies to my jokes. But she was as short with me as with others 99.9% of the time and I had to be very, very careful.

What really surprised me was when Dominique took me out to lunch for my birthday at an expensive restaurant about a month later. She wasn't renowned for her thoughtfulness. She said something about appreciating my dedication and kindness and informed me where to meet her. 

I had a teenage daughter of my own thanks to one of my one night stands, so that became our topic of discussion. I only saw my daughter a couple of times a month, but Dominique had missed her daughter's entire first twenty years for some reason. That made me feel a lot better about my own poor fathering. 

The admission about her daughter was clearly a mistake. I only barely caught the flash of surprise on her face as the sentence left her lips. She became flustered and irritated when I asked questions, so I let the subject go. For the first five months of my employment, that is as far as I got with Dominique Destine.

I'd been preparing for the big night for many months. I'd gone over the plans again and again with teams of men. If anything went wrong something terrible could happen.

I said goodnight to Ms. Destine, who favored me with a small smile and continued to mill over her paperwork. The two heavy wooden doors to her office locked as I closed them, as they did at the same time every Friday evening when she had to stay late. Only she could unlock them from her side, which was our main obstacle tonight.

I looked at my watch, mentally ticking off the seconds. At 5:12 and 30 seconds-half a minute after sundown-the floor rumbled. A moment later there was a deafening explosion from Destine's office, right on time. Plaster fell from the ceiling as it cracked. The lights flickered, and the emergency lights came on, casting eerie shadows.

Then there was an entirely unexpected sound: gun fire!

"Shit." I muttered, producing my own firearm and rushing to the door. "Ms. Destine, are you alright? Unlock the door!" I called. Nothing happened.

I crouched behind my desk. Crashes came from inside followed by more weapons fire and screams. It had to be Destine firing: my men weren't armed with anything lethal. I started to sweat. If Dominique was shooting down my men, they might not have the presence of mind to blow out the door. Our plans would be wrecked.

Finally came another explosion. I ducked behind my desk as the doors were reduced to splinters.

I was amazed at what greeted me as I looked through the ruined doorway. A tall azure gargoyle gripped a Quarrymen by the throat, blood running down her forearm as she squeezed. She smiled in perverse satisfaction as the unfortunate man bought it. 

It was true! She was a gargoyle! And Jesus almighty was she twisted!

She brought up an automatic pistol and fired, downing a hapless Quarrymen. That wasn't part of the plan, but it didn't matter. Fuck 'em.

I leapt over the desk as she dropped the body and just as a charged hammer-twirling end over end-nearly caught the gargoyle in the face. She ducked, plucking the hammer from the air, spinning and using the momentum to propel the hammer back toward its owner, who failed to scramble out of the way. He screamed as the weapon discharged-not lethal, but horribly painful.

As I rolled into the office I saw three large craft hovering outside the blown out wall of her office. Amazing! Where did Castaway get such expensive machinery? A dozen troops poured in, most armed with charged Quarry-hammers.

"Dominique, I'm with you!" I shouted.

In that moment two things happened; Dominique turned to look at me, and a Quarryman leveled a rifle at the gargoyle. Distracted, she didn't see the attack until he fired, sending a fan of tranquilizing darts in her direction. She snarled in pain and swiped away several small darts stuck her in the side-perfectly to plan.

I knew the drug the darts contained. It was powerful enough to take down elephants. 

But Dominique _didn't go down. She aimed her gun weakly and continued to fire, but missed wildly. My respect-and fear-for the creature was bumped up a notch by the display._

I sized up the Quarrymen. I quickly counted six standing and four already down. Two were clearly dead, Dominique's handiwork. All present and accounted for.

I bumped Dominique, sending her to the floor-I needed room to maneuver and didn't want to be shot at. I dove over the desk-my aim had to be perfect-found my target, and fired. His chest exploded dramatically, showering blood. He staggered backward and fell to the ground.

I picked up a discarded Quarry-hammer, double charged it the way Castaway had instructed, and hefted it at the ceiling. It exploded dramatically, sending a rain of ruble down the storm troopers. Dust billowed in the air.

"Get him!" Someone shouted, "Kill the traitor!"

I dove behind the desk again. Dominique was lying on the floor, struggling to get up. Her wings drooped on the ground at her side. 

"Dominique! Come on! We have to get out of here!" I begged. She regarded me weakly, her head lolling limply, eyes fluttering shut. She was out. Good.

I heard someone screaming. I looked over the desk just in time for a hammer to come crashing down within inches of my head. Thank god it wasn't charged or the desk would have exploded!

I grabbed the hammers owner by the wrist and yanked him forward, simultaneously smashing him in the face hard. I felt his nose crunch beneath my fist. Hot blood poured down his face as he reeled backward. Two more flanked the battered desk from the right, one with a charged hammer and the other unarmed. 

I didn't have the patience for some elaborate hand to hand bullshit. I pulled out my gun and fired into the armed one's kneecap. He screamed and went down, the hammer discharging into him. It was actually sort of funny, when I look back on it. The other froze in their tracks.

"Take you're quarrydogs and get out of here!" I warned, aiming at his face. Another man staggered to his feet-three were still conscious. I hadn't planned to shoot anyone, but it had the desired effect. He backed away, helping his wounded friend to his feet.

"We won't forget this, traitor." He warned. Castaway wouldn't be happy I'd injured his men, but he would forgive. He would be even less pleased that several were dead, but this was _his stupid plan, not mine-I'd just take her away now, if I'd been doing the planning. _

Man, if Dominique didn't trust me after this...! I hefted the gargoyle over a shoulder, still aiming at the remaining troops as they loaded their injured onto the hovercraft. In a moment they flittered away.

Now the police would arrive, maybe even the other gargoyles. The whole incident had only taken a matter of seconds, even though it felt like an eternity. I had to protect her secret and get her alone. I knew something odd about Night Stone security on this floor; the cameras-those that the security guards watched-were off from 5:00 PM to 5:00 AM. The elevator and garage level cameras were disabled too. She may have had her own cameras running-the reason for my performance.

I ran to the secure service elevator. Destine weighed 118 pounds. The gargoyle must have been 170, and that added weight was all muscle! Destine moaned a little on the trip down but didn't quite come too until I piled her into the back of my car and fled. 

I hadn't put her on the back seat because she would be seen: I'd put her on the floor. I guess it didn't compare with her limo. "Where... are you taking me?" She asked groggily, sitting up.

_Shit, I thought. "Just stay down, Ms. D. I'm getting you out of here. I didn't think you would want a police visit in your current condition."_

"I'll pay... for your silence. I'll... make you..."

"Yeah, it won't mean much if you don't lie down and be quiet, ok? This will be all over in a few minutes."

"I don't want..."

Well, screw diplomacy. I put my hand on her head and shoved. She squealed in surprise but went down easily, still heavily drugged. I guess she was still really swimming because she passed right out again.

As I drove home-not speeding, I didn't need to get pulled over right not-I saw a red Ford Fairlane rip past me, sirens blaring. I knew who was the detective behind the wheel-Elisa Maza, friend to the gargoyles, race traitor _numero-uno. Castaway hated her with a passion. Beautiful car, though. She must have been heading to Night Stone._

I pulled up to the curve and stopped hard. It jarred my passenger back into consciousness, who groaned loudly. God, dozens of people milled in front of my house! I jumped out of the car and waived the gun dramatically. "Police! Everyone clear out!"

People screamed and fled. A gargoyle in my back seat didn't rate a second look compared with a psycho waiving a gun. I was terrified I'd get shot-no way in hell I was having a shoot out with someone outside my own apartment! I may be a pretty detestable guy but I'm not looking for a murder rap. I don't do those jobs-unless the lucky fellows really _earned it. All I can say is I sleep like a baby, okay?_

Anyway, I bolted up the stairs and threw open the lock. I ran back to the car, waited as the last few stragglers ran off, and brought the semi-awake gargoyle into my apartment.

"You saved me." She said. Her eyes were still partially closed, but she was coming to. I put her on her feet in the living room. She was trying to take her arm from around my shoulders but was having difficulty.

"Just doing my job."

"I'll... be alright." She mumbled. Her knees gave out just then and she would have collapsed if I hadn't caught her.

"Bullshit." I scooped her up and carried her to my bed, which was large, soft, and very comfortable. "Get some sleep. I know you need it." She was gone before I'd finished speaking. She was wearing a golden tiara, which I removed and placed on the night table. God, for whatever she was, she was beautiful. I stared at her in the weak light for a while, looking peaceful and angelic in her sleep.

"Night." I said softly, and turned out the light.  
  


********************************************************************************

When I awoke it was only two AM, but that was plenty of sleep. When I'd curled up on the couch it was six pm.

"Morning." Dominique greeted.

Yawning, I accepted the cup of coffee pressed into my hands. I sat up and sipped at it tentatively. Dominique sat in the large chair opposite me, crossing her long blue legs and sipping at her own cup. Her hair was still slightly damp. She smelled like shampoo and looked radiant. 

She was in only a skimpy halter and loin cloth. **_WOW! My heart was thundering like it would explode and for a moment I couldn't say anything. I hadn't noticed before while rescuing her just how lovely her body was in this form. Maybe while she was out I should have… _**

No. I'm no rapist. Besides which, Castaway would have killed me if she didn't come to and do it herself first.

"Morning." I replied. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thanks to you."

I put on a shocked face. "Jesus, it really is true. You're... what are you?"

Dominique scowled. "I am a gargoyle, at night anyway."

"The others, do they turn to humans too? Or is that turning to stone thing just a myth?"

"No, they turn to stone. I'm... special."

"Yeah, I'll say."

She got up and sat beside me. "Robert, you know how important it is to me to keep this a secret." I nodded. "Than I believe we can come to a mutually accommodating arrangement." 

I pretended not to understand. 

"Name you're price, Robert." She pressed.

"We could start with lunch." Dominique looked at me, clearly incredulous. People like her expect you to try and fuck them over. "Well, lunch naked in my new luxury mansion if it will make you more comfortable."

"I'm serious." She objected.

"I'm not. You don't have to give me anything. I wouldn't let a lovely creature like you fall into the hands of those beasts."

"So, you saved my life _and will conceal my identity-all without charge?"_

"You don't believe that."

"No."

I shrugged. "I'm going to take a shower. Then I'll work on breakfast."

By the time my shower was over, Dominique had made breakfast. And a huge mess. Obviously her staff handled this type of stuff for her. I just crossed my arms over my bare chest and smiled at her struggling to flip an egg. Even though I would have to clean it up later I couldn't help but burst out laughing when her attempted fried egg splattered on the floor.

She turned dark purple. "Well don't just laugh at me!" She snapped. Ignoring her instructions, I continued to laugh so hard it hurt, doubling over and sliding down the wall. Tears streamed down my face. When I finally regained my composure, she was beginning to clean up the mess. Unfortunately she'd dumped her creation down the disposal rather hastily.

"Here, let me help you," I giggled, taking what was once a very expensive pan from her. Something was now welded to the bottom in a black mass. I stifled another chuckle. "Let's order out, shall we?"

"Cooking takes a lot more effort than I thought it would." She grumbled. "I never learned to cook these sorts of things."

"It's the thought-" I trailed off, chortling again. She ground her teeth, tail lashing. Oh, if you could _see the expression on her face! It was great! My kitchen was a disaster area! I started laughing uncontrollably again, but the spasm passed quickly. "You're really something, you know that Demona?"_

"Demona? How do you know my name?"

Oops. I wiped the tears from my eyes. "Isn't that what they called you? Demona?" She peered at me suspiciously. "Or was that just Demon?"

"Perhaps both." She sighed. "Sorry about the mess."

I let out the last remnants of a chuckle and helped her clean up. My middle ached. "That's alright. What do you prefer?"

"Call me whatever you want."

"No, I mean Chinese or pizza?"

**************************************************************************************

At 4:10-with Demona making herself comfortable at my side on the couch-the doorbell rang.

"Don't let them in!" She whispered urgently, bolting for the bedroom. She was gone in a flash. Impressive.

I located my gun and re-holstered it in my jacket. I opened the door ever so slightly, peaking out. A raven haired woman in a red bomber jacket stared back, a tall redhead man looming at her side. But the Ford in the background was the dead giveaway. So this was Elisa Maza. She was cute, too.

"Hello, detective. May I help you?"

She looked a little flustered that I already knew who she was. I like throwing my opponents off guard. "Yeah, we wanted to talk to you about the bombing at Night Stone earlier tonight."

I heard a hiss from the bedroom. "You!" Demona stormed, eyes blazing scarlet.

Instantly both produced their pistols, aiming at the gargoyle. I instinctively reached for my own but froze. I didn't want to get shot to death, and I sure as hell wasn't going to kill a cop.

"You disgusting, obtrusive pig!" Demona screamed. The front door was wide open! Anyone could look in and see her!

"Funny, Demona, whenever anything goes wrong you're always at the center." Maza said.

"I'm the victim in this detective, and now you've invaded my friend's home with guns drawn? Disgusting. I should rip you apart right here!"

Finally, thankfully, Maza closed the door. The red head Matt Bluestone, head of the gargoyles task force, followed her into the apartment. Castaway said both were in on it, but he was a paranoid nut. He though *everyone* was conspiring to protect the gargoyles, even Xanatos.

"You're never a victim, Demona. What are you up to?"

I had to get these guns put away. "Detectives, unless you have a search warrant-"

"Me? You think I blew up my own office?"

A noise came from my kitchen. I gasped. I huge purple gargoyle had come in through my kitchen window! A small electronic device hung around his neck, I guess since he didn't have any clothes to clip it to other than a loin cloth.

"Demona." He rumbled, as if that alone summed up the entirety of the situation. Jesus he was big! Demona looked ready to attack when another purple gargoyle-a female-came in after him. Angela, her daughter. It was like her in purple and more clothing.

The scarlet faded from her eyes and she recapped her wings around her shoulders. "I have done nothing wrong." She defended in a calmer voice. "I've spent the evening recovering. Ask my witness if you want."

"It's true." I interjected. "I was there. She nearly died. And as I tried to say earlier, unless you have a search warrant I would prefer to go over this later."

"So you're saying-" Matt started.

"Do you have a warrant?" Demona interrupted. "I know you don't."

"Probable cause." Elisa said.

"You are going to report you found a gargoyle in his apartment? Are you going to turn me over to the police as well? Or take Angela in for a statement?"

"Mother, I know you have nothing to hide." Angela pleaded. "We all have a stake in defeating the Quarrymen. Please help us." 

Demona crossed her arms, regarding Elisa with distaste. "Fine." She said sourly. "All I can tell you is a bunch of wacko's with hammers blew up my office and tried to kill me. They almost succeeded but Rob-Mr. Malcolm came to my aid and managed to drive them off." 

Maza took down notes diligently and then turned to me. I told the same story.

A few questions later everyone cleared out, except the lavender female Angela. "I know you did nothing wrong, mother." She said, taking Demona's hand in her own. Demona finally looked up and met her gaze. "We're going to get the people that did this to you." She brushed her knuckles across her mother's brow ridges-delicate horns protruding from beneath her temples-and her mother did the same. Weird. "I'll see you next Sunday."

Hmm, Sunday, I thought. Castaway would love to hear _that. _

I watched her leave through the kitchen window and up the fire escape. "Wow," I said, "She looks a lot different from when she visited the office. Does she transform too?"

Demona stretched her wings and tail-in a sort of feline fashion with a large fanged yawn-and collapsed on the couch. "No, those were special circumstances."

"Well, she's as beautiful as her mother in either form." Destine raised a questioning brow ridge, a little surprised and amused.

"Keep your hands to yourself human. She's taken."

Time for the plunge; see how she would take this. "And her mother?"

Both her brow ridges rose. Then she smiled ever so slightly, an unreadable sort of expression that was sort of dangerous and sort of bemused. It scared the piss out of me. 

"Why do you ask?" 

I'm usually a pretty cool guy. I turn on the charm with chicks much younger than her and can get a lot of them into bed. But somehow Destine was rattling me. I started to flush, which made me nervous. That only seemed to amuse her. "Well..." I swallowed hard, unable to find any safe words.

"I was going to spend this afternoon catching up on paperwork," she said, idly studying the fabric of my coach, twirling a talon along the pattern. She tilted her head toward me, her smile more playful than menacing. I relaxed. "What do you propose?"

I sat next to her on the couch, close, but not touching. "Well... we could start with lunch at a restaurant of you're choice."

"Mmm hmm..." she purred, nodding. "Go on."

"Then... maybe... say, an afternoon stroll in the park? Or... how about the beach?"

"Why not both?" she mock pouted.

"Even better." I agreed. "In fact, why don't we get lunch to go? A picnic. Lets see... for dinner... how about an evening at the castle?" Her expression soured. Wrong choice I could see. Maybe she was just startled I knew that's where the gargoyles lived. "Or is that just a myth?" I covered, "That Xanatos houses the gargoyles."

"Let's just say the castle is out." She replied dryly. "Try again."

"Alright.... okay, Dominique, how about we come back here and I'll cook?" That worked. She relaxed a little. I grinned, resting my hand on her elbow. Her skin was even softer as a gargoyle (even if she did have a nasty elbow spur). "And after that, a night of wild debauchery."

She laughed, withdrawing from my touch. "With yourself perhaps. I have no interest in a _relationship, human, for obvious reasons. But an afternoon together might be pleasant. I accept."_

**************************************************************************************

Our day together didn't all go at all as planned. For starters, it rained in the middle of our picnic, sending us scurrying for cover. But Dominique just laughed it off and I ended up treating her to McDonald's instead. She'd said she'd never had McDonald's before, and obviously _that can't be allowed. I didn't get the feeling she would be rushing out for another Big Mac anytime soon, but she was having a good time. She was being herself, which didn't include snapping at waiters and degrading staff. But it didn't include holding hands or making eyes at me, either. All in all, though, I was having a great time, and I was pretty certain she was too. Our little exchanges of dry sarcasm were more fun than I'd ever had with a date._

Another first for Dominique was seeing a movie, which replaced a stroll in the park. It wasn't the best movie and she seemed bored. It did provide the opportunity-when a particularly graphic sex scene appeared-to elbow her in the side and whisper (in a sarcastic tone) "That's us in two hours." She just laughed, but she shrugged off the arm I placed around her shoulders. Oh well.

I have to admit I was becoming thoroughly confused. I was getting all the right signals. We got along great.

Finally we prepared dinner which-aside from a short lived fire and a half dozen dropped eggs-went pretty well. She rather enjoyed helping and was full of naive questions. If she'd realized that, I think it would have embarrassed her deeply, and she would have started to sulk. Her pride is easily wounded. The mess was tremendous, but I wouldn't let her help clean it up-not that she seemed particularly eager. I only wish I'd had candles to make the meal perfect.

I'd put on some soft music and-hands on her tiny waist-tried to teach her some dance steps. She kept stepping on my feet and apologizing, which was cute, although I tried not to show it. She hated being laughed at. When she got embarrassed, she became abusive and introverted. Her green eyes took on a wicked glint that even the most hapless couldn't miss. But for now she was smiling warmly, all cuddles and affection. It was starting to feel like an actual date.

But then the most amazing thing happened. Any doubts about magic disappeared that night! Suddenly she shrieked and reared away from me, doubling over and shaking convulsively. I reached for her when suddenly her skin changed from a pale pink to light azure, startling me and making me recoil. Her moan turned to an inhuman roar. When it was all over-and before me was Demona, the gargoyle-her suite was in tatters and she was panting raggedly. I overcame my shock and knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders.

"Jesus, are you alright?" I asked with an edge of panic. 

She inhaled deeply and stood-ignoring my offered hand-stretching her wings and then caping them around her shoulders, completely composed. "I'm fine."

"That looked horribly painful."

"It is."

"I thought you said you were changed by magic."

"I do. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt though." Well, I hadn't considered that. What do I know about magic? She started to pick at the tatters of her outfit, removing a few destroyed articles. "Thank you for such a wonderful day, Robert. I've really enjoyed myself."

"Me too, Domi."

I took her hand and walked her up the fire escape to the roof. She looked wonderful, silhouetted in the moonlight. The delicate blue of her skin was accentuated by the night sky perfectly. 

"I'd love to do this again sometime." I said.

"Me too." She agreed. Then her eyes became hard. "But remember two things: if you reveal my secret-or even attempt to-I'll kill you." I swallowed hard and nodded my head. "And two: don't call me Dominique at the office around the others, and never, ever call me Demona. Understood?"

"Yes, Ms. Destine." 

She relaxed again and smiled at me. The moment was just _perfect. I knew I had to take it._

I stepped close to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her eyes widened in surprise and she sucked in a breath like she was suddenly filled with dread. I pulled her close against me and kissed her. She tensed. Her lips where clenched tightly.

I was humiliated, but what could I do? I forged on.

After a couple of seconds, she relaxed, letting it happen, putting her arms around me hesitantly. She sighed, jaw opening slightly and inviting my tongue into her mouth. It was little disconcerting as it passed between sharp fangs. Man, she could bite off my tongue!

"Mmm...." she purred, returning the kiss. I couldn't tell you how long that exploring first kiss lasted. Everything about it-her taste, her long, muscular tongue, even the gentle prick of fangs-was perfect. I'd never kissed like that in my entire life.

Kind of regretfully on both our parts, it ended. Our breathing was faster slightly, and we looked at each other with a glint of hunger in our eyes. The way her body molded against mine was such a promise of things to come. In that moment I would have given my left nut if I could screw her just once, but it I didn't want her in the way I had earlier.

I'm no romantic. I go through woman pretty fast and don't hesitate to screw around on 'em. But she was different. _Oh Christ, I kicked my self, __you're falling in love, you dumb fuck!_

She'd been looking at me tenderly, her dark eyes soft and searching. It was the probing look two people in love exchanged. But abruptly something in changed. It was like when she'd caught herself admitting too much about Angela.

She closed her mouth and pulled away from me. Her eyes were as black as coal, going instantly from affection to glaring in hate. I gaped at her in astonishment and fear. What had gone wrong?

"I'll... see you at the office." She said, hostile.

I opened my mouth to reply but she turned away and leapt on the ledge. 

I tried to figure out what was wrong. She had enjoyed the kiss as much as I did. Her body didn't lie. So why the instant reversal in feelings? I milled it over for a while. Maybe she did hate humans. Maybe I was rushing things. Maybe enjoying kissing me-

"That has to be the most disgusting display I've ever witnessed." A voice said, startling the shit out of me.

I spun around. "God damn it! You almost gave me a heart attack!" I practically shouted, placing a hand over my pounding heart. It was Castaway's rendezvous-the last man I wanted to see right now. He was one of the big shots in the Quarrymen I guess. He was short-barely over five feet. His lifeless shit-brown hair was parted so that it fell across his temple. His face was ugly, almost pit-bull like. I hated him.

"You haven't forgotten your mission have you?" He asked threateningly, his eyes narrowing.

"No, I haven't 'forgotten my mission!'" I spat. "Maybe you have! I'm to win her trust. And how better to do it!"

"We don't condone that kind of contact with a filthy animal." 

That made me angry. "She is not a filthy animal!" I screamed.

"Don't tell me you enjoyed that?" He asked with incredulous horror.

I clenched my teeth and force myself to continue in a lowered voice.

"Look, everything is on schedule and as planned. I've made a lot more progress than might have been expected. What I do with her is my business-not yours, not Castaway's. I'll uphold my end of the deal. That's all that matters."

"Just remember this: if you turn traitor, there'll be no place on earth for you to run. We'll find you, and we'll kill you. Keep that in mind next time you stick you're tongue in that demon whore's mouth. Or anywhere else." My face became hot with rage, but I said nothing. "By the way," he continued casually, enjoying my outrage, "you shot one of our men in the leg. That was uncalled for. Don't let it happen again. At least you didn't forget which man had the blood packs and bulletproof vest. Wonderful show-or so I've been told. Good job on that much."

"I trust my down payment has been made."

"Of course, five hundred thousand, as promised. By the way, Mr. Castaway has expressed certain... concerns to be as to your fealty. Expect to find something of interest in your mailbox soon."

I felt sick. A bomb? They wouldn't be so obvious. Right? I wondered frantically.

He turned and started back down the service stairs.

"Wait!" I blurted stupidly. He paused. "I forgot to mention, next Sunday-she is going to see her daughter."

He spun, eyes livid. "Where!? Do you know where?" He begged.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Her place."

"The Demon's home!? Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure, dammit!" I snapped. I was, too-I'd worked it out of Dominique earlier. "Unless she lied to me," I added, just in case.

***************************************************************************************

Over the next week, Dominique made it clear she wasn't interested. I was surprised how angry and embarrassed her rejection made me. The idle chatter stopped. She was colder and more hostile toward me than toward anyone, and everyone noticed. It worried me. If I got fired it would almost certainly ruin the mission. But she'd already threatened to kill me, too.

Finally, after a week of hostility, I went into her office. I hadn't been there since the night it was blown up, although only a week later it was already repaired.

Dominique looked up, her eyes blazing with anger when she saw who it was.

"We need to talk." I said plainly.

"About what?"

"You know what about, Dominique. What happened? We had a great time together-"

"Stop!" She snapped. "I regret everything that happened that night!"

My mouth fell open slightly. Despite how shabbily she'd been treating me, that still stung. "How can you say that?" I whispered like a hurt child. "Why do you want to hurt me so badly, after all I've done for you?"

"You just don't seem to get the message: I'm not interested!"

"That's no excuse for the way you've treated me!" I shot back. For a long moment we just glared at each other with hatred. Then I inhaled deeply, collecting myself. I didn't want a shouting match. I pushed aside my anger and continued in a subdued voice, "Look, Dominique, I wanted to have a relationship, and thought we could. But-despite all the signals you sent otherwise-I'll understand if you don't. All I'm asking is that we be... no, I'm not even asking for your friendship back. All I'm asking is for you to treat me humanely. Can you grant me that much, at least?"

Dominique was silent for a while, deep in thought. Contradictory emotions danced in her expressive green eyes. Finally, she quietly said, "No. I can't. What's done is done, and I can no longer work with you. I'm afraid... I'll have to let you go."

I gaped in astonishment. "You... but.... surely you can't..."

"It's for the best. You'll continue to draw your pay for the specified time, although I'd prefer you clear out your desk tonight. As per your contract you'll continue to receive benefits for-"

"Wait! You can't just fire me! That isn't fair!"

"Life isn't fair!" She shot back angrily, standing up so suddenly her heavy chair nearly toppled.

"Demona, please-" Whatever smooth words I was going to say were cut off by a painful slap in the face. I staggered back in shock.

"Fool!" She screamed, grabbing the front of my shirt. "I told you never to call me that!" She slammed me into the desk, an amazing feat for a woman her size. Her face was inches from mine, her iron grip holding me upright. In a hiss that conveyed more malice than any shout could, Dominique said "I swear, human, if you dare betray me I won't hesitate to kill you. Now get out of my building!" 

With that she released me.

I stumbled out numbly. My heart ached. 

What was I going to tell Castaway?

***************************************************************************************

I grabbed the package awaiting my arrival home and tossed it aside, too involved in the search for booze to give it much notice. How could I complete my mission now that I'd been fired? What was I going to do?

"Get hammered." I told myself. Goddamn Castaway, I thought bitterly. We had her! Why didn't he use that opportunity to just snatch her? Why were we supposed to recapture her _after I'd won her trust? What sense did that make?_

Thinking about Castaway triggered an interesting thought. I turned from the cupboard and regarded the package again. It had no return address, nor any postage. I ripped it open hastily. Two tapes clattered to the ground. My heart started to pound.

One was marked: To Dominique Destine, CEO of Night Stone Unlimited.

"Shit." I muttered. I picked up the other. To Margaret Yale, Assistant D.A.

Who was more dangerous? I put in the Yale one; good news first.

It was a video of me. Who I was talking to was hidden, and it took me a moment to recognize the luncheon Castaway usually met me in. The image was grainy, like a hidden camera on one of those police video shows.

"Yeah," I said, "In California, I did the Hilliard kidnapping. Did you hear about that?"

"No." Said a voice, digitally distorted beyond recognition.

"Well," I replied to the masked voice, "we dumped him in a Buick at a gas station, ransom never paid." I barely made it to the couch before my knees gave out. I knew what Castaway was doing. I was on video admitting the things never publicly announced about the crimes-the crimes "fingerprints."

Some evidence is withheld by the police-such as the '67 Buick in which Hilliard was put, and not the '89 Chevy that got reported in the media-so that if some loose screw wants to confess they can judge if it's genuine. It may sound crazy but people do just that, especially in high profile cases.

I watched in horror the next several confessions, some to even more serious crimes. Two kidnappings, four break-ins, and one accidental homicide. That was enough, I decided. 

With trembling hands I removed the first tape and began the second.

It was Dominique, transforming. I couldn't place where or when though. This video was in color, but of far better quality. The second time she went through the process, it was the morning she'd transformed in my apartment.

"I change my magic." Dominique said. The scene shifted. "I'm a gargoyle, at night anyway," it changed again, "You can understand how important it is for me to keep this secret.... my duel nature." 

I stopped listening. They'd bugged my apartment! They'd stabbed me in the back. They were placing my life at risk. 

And there was nothing I could do about it.

The montage of Dominique talking-combined with shots of us together-ended with text scrolling up the screen; 

_Dominique: _

_You know who this is, monster. _

_I'm going to expose you for the animal you are. _

_-Quarrymen forever!_

I couldn't calm myself. I sat on the couch, pale and trembling. When I was finally able, I picked up the discarded package and doubled checked it. The inside of the envelope had writing on it. With some effort, I tore it open and read.

"Dear Robert,

Fail or betray us, demon lover, and we turn these videos over to the 'proper authority.' If you're lucky you'll just go to jail. 

By exposing the inside of this package to air it will self destruct. Place it in something non-combustible (PS, it will still burn under water). I'm sorry you had to push us to this. Perhaps you'll keep your tongue in your own mouth from now on."

It was unsigned. With a sudden burst of energy I ran to the computer. If I could just scan a few words quickly-but before the computer had finished booting, the package was already blackening and wilting. Clever bastard. The heat was tremendous. I threw it into the trash moments before it burst into flames.

How long until they discovered I'd been fired? What would happen when Yale and Dominique got the packages? Who could I play off who? Would it be safe to betray the Quarrymen to Demona?

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I felt hot tears of frustration start to leak down my cheeks.

"I'm a dead man," I said to myself, and started to cry.

**************************************************************************************


End file.
